Sweet elderly lady

Poem by Suraj Shah.

Sweet elderly lady, that lives just three doors down,
Used to smile broadly, now carries a slight frown.
Lived with her husband for sixty magnificent years,
With his recent passing, she is overcome with tears.

She struggles to cook, craves help from her man,
Can’t manage alone, can’t even lift a saucepan.
It’s been only four months, but feels more like eleven,
Places demands on God, to also whisk her to heaven.

Sons live far far away, with their own pretty wives,
Busy working away to maintain their expensive lives.
They encourage her to move, to somewhere nearby,
Yet such rushed upheavel, would make anyone cry.

She reminisces about their love, missing him so much,
The long country drives, and his soft and gentle touch.
To get where she wanted, he would take her in the car,
Now she depends on others, to reach places near and far.

A beautiful garden, he had worked hard to maintain,
Now looks more like a picture with a horrible stain.
He grew all types of vegetables on the green patch,
Now remains a reminder of her man unfairly snatched.

On warm summer days, in the garden they had sat,
Sharing a glass of wine, discussing this and that.
Now she’s alone, with no-one home to enjoy a drink,
Instead stays indoors, with plenty of time to think.

She thinks and she thinks, thinking more and more,
Pondering on days to come, wondering what’s in store.
Acknowledging she will be alone, and that’s actually ok,
Happy in her own company, she’s decided to stay.

Never forgetting the kind man, who once shared her life,
With conviction she will overcome, any kind of strife.
The sweet elderly lady, that lives three doors away,
Affirms she will lead a full life, starting from today.

Saved the ladybird from drowning, but then crushed it

Poem by Suraj Shah.

Teeny tiny ladybird, swimming in the luke-warm camomile tea,
Trying desperately to save from drowning, trying very hard to flee;
My wife helps it onto the teabag, a makeshift vessel to it’s station,
Taking the tiny being from it’s ocean of death, to it’s safe salvation.

I gently pick up the mug and move it to the edge of the bathroom sink,
Take the teabag out, place it on the edge, save the insect from the drink;
Feeling proud that I saved this soul from experiencing a tragic fateful end,
I go downstairs to get another drink, but I fail to fully comprehend.

For when I return back up, I absent mindedly head straight to the loo,
I go to sit down, without a second thought, commence a number two;
Then when I look down, and what do I see, a shocking new discovery,
I’m responsible now, for killing this ‘bird, from this life it really did flee.

Isn’t it strange how, when we try really hard, to repair a difficult situation,
That with the best of intent, and no harm meant, we destroy God’s creation;
It turns out, that’s how it was meant to be, the end the ladybird did meet,
Saved from the water, lived a bit longer, ultimately crushed beneath my feet.

(Photo courtesy of Hamed Saber)

I’m sorry, I forgot

Poem written by Suraj Shah.

Losing my mind.
Losing my memory
Memory like a sieve.
Memory like a goldfish.

That’s what I’ve heard said,
When something’s been forgotten.

I’m sorry, I forgot.
Oops, I forgot.
Ummmm, I forgot.
Oh lord, I have forgotten.

Lost thoughts.
Lost words.
Lost memories.
Lost ideas.

Gone but not forever.
Someday to return.
Someday to arise.
Or perhaps never.

Feelings of shame.
Feelings of sorrow.
Feelings of guilt.

Cluttered mind to clear thoughts.
Cluttered house to clean home.
Cluttered diary to calm days.
Cluttered relations to care for all.

Sorrow of loss?

Joy of lightness.